Disclosure
by High-Functioning Ginger
Summary: Mycroft has a many secrets. The most important of which involves Sherlock Holmes and the protection of Earth. Cross-over in which Sherlock is a Time-lord, the Universe is in trouble and John just goes with it all. *On Hiatus*
1. Chapter 1

_**AN: So this is a new story I'm working on based on a request from someone over on DeviantArt. I'm in for the long haul on this one as it's got a fair bit of plot development to it – I'm curious if any of you can guess if form this prologue.**_

_**I'm not sure how often I will update as this is something very different from what I'm used to writing. Let me know your thoughts!**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

"Sir?" Mycroft glanced up from the form he was reviewing at the sound of his assistant's voice. "Yes?"

"There's a call for you, sir."

"Why didn't you just forward it through?"

"I couldn't." she explains, holding up a small blue cell phone. Mycroft eyes widen almost imperceptibly. He'd almost forgotten about him. Well, that's not entirely true - but he'd hardly had reason to think about him in so long that it was surprising for him suddenly re-enter Mycroft's life and world.

"Cancel everything for today. Let no one in this office." he orders, extending his hand to take the vibrating mobile from her.

"But sir, the Prime Minister -" she objects. "Can wait." he insists, cutting her off.

A sharp intake of breath from her shows that she realizes the severity of the situation. It's above her clearance level, meaning of international importance at the very least. "Yes sir." she says, with a crisp nod of her head, before turning on her heel and exiting the office.

When she's gone Mycroft takes a deep, steadying breath and answers the vibrating phone. "Mycroft speaking" he greets smoothly, his tone neutral and cool.

The voice on the other end answers with a more emotional tone of regret and barely perceptible anxiety. "I'm sorry, but it's time. There is something very big and very dangerous coming, we need him." he explains.

Mycroft stiffens at his dour words, "What's happening?" he inquires, needing a degree of danger so he can put other measures into action.

"I'll explain it all when he's present. It will make more sense when he has his memories." the voice on the other end assures, his deliberate vagueness conveying his alarm.

"I must warn you that I haven't been entirely successful." Mycroft answers, his thoughts turning towards his charge and the person he has become. Unfortunately he doubted that he was suited for the sort of task that was about to be laid before him.

"Is he alive?" the other voice inquires, seemingly concerned that Mycroft had been grossly irresponsible.

"Of course!" Mycroft responds incredulously, furious at his implications.

"Then you've been successful enough." the voice returns, disregarding Mycroft angered tone.

"I'm afraid I must disagree. He has no sense of duty or service. He's hardly a thought for anyone but himself. Actually he hardly has a thought for anything other than his mind, treating all other parts of himself with the same inconsideration that he treats his fellows with." he explains, allowing exasperation to colour his tone.

"They aren't his fellows anymore." The voice reminds.

"You've no idea how relieved he will be to hear you say that. He's constantly going on about how inferior their minds are. He's rather arrogant and difficult to manage." he replies, his tone implying a grumbling dissatisfaction.

"You care for him though and that means he's not a lost cause." he responds and there is almost a smile to his tone at reading the affection behind Mycroft's seemingly remote exterior.

"I've _taken_ care of him, there's a difference." Mycroft argues.

"I hope you've done both. It's important to be loved, especially when you have to make a difference in the world. It's vital." he answers, his voice gaining a soulful quality of a man wise beyond his years.

Mycroft brushes this aside by saying "He's loved I assure you, though not by me."

"By who then?"

"A very dear and loyal friend." he answers, thoughts turning towards the staunch army doctor that he was lucky enough to know.

"Ah, there's nothing better to have. Bring him along as well." he insists.

"Certainly. When and where?" he asks, back to business, coordinating details.

"You're giving him the watch this afternoon?"

"I'll be leaving for his flat as soon as we're done." he assures.

"Good. Tomorrow evening then. Make sure your office is empty at 7:15."

"You're landing here?" the tone conveys such surprise you can practically hear his eyes widen.

"Yep. Less risk of being spotted." he answers, his tone displaying the need for caution. "I'll see you then." he assures. Click. The line on the other end goes dead and he snaps the phone shut.

He lets out a heavy sigh as he slips it into his pocket. His head drops into his hands for a moment. He'd lied of course. He did care for Sherlock. He'd been foolish enough to get attached despite his determination not to. Flashes of memory paraded through his mind. Sherlock's first day as a human and his role in creating a past he never had.

"_Sherlock Holmes, how dare you do something so foolish!" he'd berated as he entered the private hospital room he'd created in the safe house he'd built for him. _

_Sherlock's response was a low groan extracted from the fact that Mycroft had turned on the lights. "Wha?" was the only word he could form. _

"_Drugs Sherlock. I can hardly believe such a thing of you! Haven't you any consideration for anyone but yourself? I know you're at odds with mummy but you shouldn't act rashly because of it. You've sent her into hysterics. She's so upset, she refuses to lay eyes on you." he scolded with his well rehearsed dialogue. _

_It was a clever method that easily covered any questions Sherlock might ask. It explained his disorientation and amnesia. By mentioning family members and dynamics he was creating false memories in Sherlock's mind that his imagination would take and create a past for him. He already had photos albums ready with modified pictures to show him when he demanded further proof of his identity. _

"_I - I don't remember anything." Sherlock mumbled, as he attempted to sit up and examine the room. _

"_Not surprising with what you took. I couldn't believe the blood results, you were practically a walking chemist you had so many drugs in your system!" _

"_Drugs?" Sherlock responded, confused and incredulous. _

"_Yes! You know, chemical compounds created to -" _

"_I know what they are!" he snapped, cutting Mycroft off. "I just don't remember taking them. Or know why I would." _

"_Well neither do I. though I wouldn't be surprised if you thought of it as an experiment." _

_he offered, baiting him into manifesting the personality of a scientist._

_This would fit his true personality and it seemed like something the eccentric young teen would've done in his previous form. _

"_Yes, I suppose it was." Sherlock confirms, taking the bait. "Can I have the blood results for my records? I want to know the results. And can I talk to one of the nurses or doctors who cared for me? I need some feedback." _

_Mycroft's mouth almost quirks up in one corner, the closest he ever gets to a smile, and he responds smoothly "I'll get your test results. The medical staff it too busy to be bothered with your questions though." _

_Sherlock's response was a glare and muttered curse. Mycroft left him with a pile of books and a few false cards from well-wishers, who he claims believe Sherlock, was in some sort of lab accident. It's a complicated lie that is woven larger and larger throughout Sherlock's teen years and slowly fades into something resembling truth as he transitions into adulthood and begins building his own life and relations._

He snaps himself from his memories and calls for his assistant. "Get the car."

"Yes sir. Am I to come with you?"

"No."

"Yes sir." and she's gone again.

Fifteen minutes later and he's immersed in the midday traffic of central London.

"Left at the grey building." he directs the driver. They pull up to a large, dilapidated brick building and Mycroft exits the car, motioning for the driver to remain. Mycroft can sense his surprise at being asked to take a government official to such a seedy location, but he hides it well.

Mycroft ducks into the house, under a fallen door. "Hello sir." he's greeted by a crisp young woman at the front desk. This dilapidated building is in fact a well disguised bank for the storage of very important information and artifacts possessed by those in the government.

"Box 371" he requests, handing her the key card. "One moment, sir." she says, taking the card and disappearing into a back room. She returns a few seconds later and hands him a small metal box and his key. "Thank you."

"Have a good day sir." she answers, directing her attention back to the computer.

He ducks out of the building and climbs back into the car. "221B Baker Street." he directs the driver. "Yes sir."

_**If conveniet please review; if inconvenient review anyway.**_

_**KP**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**AN: And here we are with Chp 2 where a bit more of the plot is revealed. In Chp three I will explain the voice on the phone and what is about to go down in the Universe.**_

_**Thanks for the reviews and faves!**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes. That honour belongs to John Watson.**

"Sherlock! You've got a visitor." Mrs. Hudson shouted from downstairs. The only reason they can hear her is because the door is open.

Now they don't typically leave it open, they like their privacy. However John insisted on opening it along with several windows to air out the flat from Sherlock's most recent experiments involving sulfur and acid of some sort that made for a very foul smelling combination when heated and applied to wood. Sherlock tried to explain it's relevancy to a cold case the Lestrade had given him to abate boredom, but he was to pissed off to listen.

He also insisted that Sherlock pay for the new table, because he refused to eat off of one that had a large, blackened hole in it.

At Mrs. Hudson's call John snapped his laptop shut from where he was writing a blog entry, before straightening up, presuming the visitor to be a potential client.

Sherlock didn't stir from his own laptop, too busy hastily recording the data from the experiment to be bothered. John let out a heavy sigh, and rubbed his hand across his face in exasperation. "Sherlock, client." He prompted, moving to stand behind him and close the laptop.

"I'm afraid not, Dr Watson." Mycroft's cool voice corrected from the door. John's shoulders sag, he'd been hoping for a case. Sherlock needs one; their kitchen can't take much more abuse. He flips Sherlock's laptop back open in permission for him to ignore Mycroft and returns to his own seat and computer; his exasperation at Mycroft's presence evident in his movements.

Mycroft enters the flat and seat himself upon the couch without waiting for invitation.

John watches him expectantly, waiting for him to explain his visit, but instead Mycroft's attention is focused on Sherlock's back, apparently waiting to be acknowledged.

"Sherlock, would you stop acting like a child and join us?" he requests, exasperated

when Sherlock refuses to spare him a glance or acknowledge his presence. Sherlock seems to consider his request for a moment, and then jumps from his chair.

"The store, John." He says, as stride across the flat towards the door. "What?" John demands, in utter bemusement. "I'm going to the store. I need supplies." He answers, slipping into his black woolen coat.

"What? You never go to the store!" John protests, utterly confused by Sherlock's antics.

"That because the store is usually more unpleasant than the flat. That's no longer the case." He explains, throwing Mycroft a glare.

"Sherlock!" he protests but he's already descending the stairs, winding the navy scarf around his neck.

"Well if you want to talk to him, you'll have to wait or chase after him yourself, because I'm not going to." John says, directing his attention back to Mycroft when he hears the front door slam shut.

"No. Perhaps its best that I speak with you first, to prepare you for what's about to happen."

"Okay..." John responds uncertainly, unaccustomed to Mycroft speaking with such gravity.

"Would you like some tea first?" he offers out of polite habit.

"Tea would be lovely. Always good to steady the nerves." Mycroft accepts with a smooth, polite smile.

"Your nerves need steadying?" John questions incredulously. Nothing ever shakes Mycroft.

"No. But yours will." Is his enigmatic and slightly disconcerting response.

John stands and heads for the kitchen, with a sense and of impending storm. Something was going on something really big, and Sherlock is somehow involved.

It's enough to shake him up a bit. His heat rate is already increasing and he feels like he does those when Sherlock is standing at the precipice of a solution and John knows they'll be pursuing a criminal soon. He's excited.

The tea boils and he pours two steaming cups, then returns to the living room.

"There you go." He says as he hands one off to Mycroft. Mycroft doesn't take a sip, instead resting it in his hands as he waits for John to get settled.

"I have many secrets Dr Watson. So does Sherlock. I know all my secrets. Sherlock however, doesn't know all of his." Mycroft begins to explain.

"What are you saying?" John interrupts. He hates it when Mycroft speaks in riddles.

"It would be easier if I explain everything and you ask questions later. Just understand that only three other people on the planet have access to the information I'm about to share with you." Mycroft deflects the questions smoothly.

"Classified?" John clarifies.

"That's qualifies as a severe understatement, but yes." Mycroft confirms, a grim amusement in his tone.

"Well I've gotten rather good at keeping secrets, so no worries." John reassures, moderately amused and offended by Mycroft feeling as though he needs a warning to remain silent. Keeping other people's secrets is his forte these days

"I don't doubt that you're trustworthy. But I must stress that this information will change your outlook on many things. It will change everything you think you know about Sherlock. You can't run from this once I've shared it with you and you can not tell anyone, at all, under any circumstances." Mycroft warns leveling him with a hard look

"Got it." John confirms, realizing his response sounds a bit too cavalier and he quickly amends "Won't tell a soul."

"Excellent." Mycroft reaches into his suit pocket and extracts a small metal box. He places it upon the coffee table and requests "Bring me Sherlock's violin case."

"What?" John inquires in confusion. What can Sherlock's violin have to do with anything?

"No questions Dr Watson." Mycroft reminds him.

"Oh – right. Okay." John answers and locates the case, propped against the bookshelf.

He carries it carefully over to him.

Mycroft opens it, removes the violin and hands it off to John. He holds it tentatively, watching Mycroft locate a secret compartment beneath the velvet lining. He removes a small, silver key and lays it on the coffee table.

He re-arranges the case back to its original state and extends his hand for the instrument. John hands it back over and Mycroft replaces it, then closes the case and sets it off to the side. He sticks the key in the box and opens it with a small click.

John finds himself holding his breath, wondering what can possibly be inside such a small box that has such drastic affect.

He lets it out in a huff when Mycroft holds up an elegant pocket watch. He purses his lips slightly in disbelief at the pomp and drama surrounding what appeared to be nothing more than an antique. Mycroft read his confusion and disappointment and gives an amused smile. "No doubt you believe this to be a normal pocket watch?"

"Yes..." John responded hesitantly, sensing that was the wrong answer, but unsure of what the right one is.

"And why should you think anything else?" Mycroft continues "It appears to be nothing unusual. Appearances are deceiving however. This is in fact a genetic mutation device."

"A what now?" John demands incredulous and utterly confused.

"Dr. Watson, no interruptions." Mycroft reminds.

"Oh – right. Sorry."

"As I was saying, it alters the DNA of whoever uses it into something different. In Sherlock's case it made him human."

John's eye-brows threaten to disappear as he raises them in disbelief and he opens his mouth to protest, but a sharp look from Mycroft silences him.

"I know this may sound ludicrous, but I assure you it's true." He hands the watch over to John to examine. John takes it, almost absentmindedly, and examines it, while Mycroft continues explaining.

"Sherlock is not human. He is not born of this planet. He is a Time Lord. They are an ancient extraterrestrial race that travels in time."

He notes is has strange circles and symbols scrawled across it, looking like something from a hybrid text-book on quantum physics and code-breaking. He traces the design with his fingers as Mycroft continues talking.

"Time Lords receive their name for their non-linear perception of time, which allows them to see everything that was, is, or could be at the same time. Because of this they became custodians so to speak, to prevent time from being subverted or abused. They can act to manipulate timelines of a wide range of events and individuals, so long as they do not cross back into their own timeline."

"So he's alien?" John inquires, because basically that's all he's absorbed so far.

"Yes. His home planet was called Galifrey." Mycroft explains, pleased to see John not only believe him, but is still interested.

"Was?" John questions, catching the tense difference.

"It was destroyed, along with a majority of his race in what is known and The Great Time War." Mycroft explains.

"Oh god." Is John's empathetic response, almost automatically. An entire planet destroyed.

"Yes. Sherlock was sent here and made human for protection. He was also sent so that he might help fight against extra-terrestrial threats that affect out planet." Mycroft continues to explain.

John is no longer listening though. Mycroft pretty much lost him at the _"Yes he's an alien" _part.

His mind feels strangely empty as though it simply can not form a coherent thought based on the information it has been given to process.

He feels dizzy and takes a few breaths to steady himself, thinking of Sherlock, just that morning, leaned over the chemistry set, sipping at tea while he conducted his experiment.

As normal and human as Sherlock ever was, and now he's something strange and different, right out of a sci-fi special. He asks, just once more for confirmation "So he's an alien?"

Mycroft spares him a small smile at his struggle to understand and answers "In simple terms; yes."

"Like a spaceman with multiple eyes and green scales?" He clarifies, trying to picture Sherlock as anything other than lanky, pale skinned, dark haired and having a very hard time of it.

"I believe you're too fond of the movies Dr. Watson. The race that Sherlock was born of look, sound and generally act as humans do." Mycroft answers, hoping it will relieve some of his concerns. It's certainly convenient that humans and Time Lords look so alike, as it makes the transition process easier.

"Right. Okay then." John says, taking a breath as his mind wraps itself around this new idea. After the initial shock it's not all that hard to accept he realizes. "This actually explains a lot of things. No wonder he never acts human, he isn't."

Now it's Mycroft's turn to look surprised, at least moderately so "You're taking this rather well." He comments, with a slight smile.

"Yeah well don't let my calm exterior fool you. I'm still freaking out on the inside a bit. But if it's true, which I'm sure it is, as you've got no sense of humour so it can't be a joke; then I just have to roll with it. I've gotten used to the unexpected living here with Sherlock. This is just another quirk I guess." He explains, reassuring himself with his own words as he talks.

"I'm glad to hear it. That clears a heavy burned from my mind." He says, allowing a small smile of relief to show through.

"And what burden is that?" John asks wondering why his acceptance is such a big deal, when it's Sherlock who will have to change genetic codes.

Mycroft hesitates for a moment, choosing his words. "You've been a loyal ally to my brother -" he begins, but is cut off by John

"It's called friendship" he interjects, with an exasperated undertone at Mycroft's clinical language.

"Yes, that. And I hope that this doesn't alter your relationship. He will need a ..._friend_

in the challenges he's about to undertake and you're the only one that he's ever allowed to care for him. I hope you shall continue to do so." John smiles at this.

"No need to worry. I'm with Sherlock for better or worse." He assures him. Honestly, he's dealt with psycho bombers and serial killers for Sherlock. It will take a lot more than alien origins to scare him off.

Mycroft's mouth quirks into a smirk at his phrasing and quips "Til death do you part."

John throws him a glare at the implications "You can shut up now."

**If convenient please review; if inconvenient review anyway.**

**KP**


	3. Chapter 3

_**AN: I know this story is going a bit slow – but it should pick up once everything is explained to Sherlock and John. Hopefully I've managed to capture the Doctor's characterization correctly as I'm not accustomed to writing him.**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes. That honor belongs to John Watson**

For the next thirty minutes Mycroft answers John's numerous questions. He tells him about Sherlock first few days as human and how he coordinated everything to create false memories.

He tells John about a man, well Time Lord, called the Doctor who brought Sherlock to Earth. He's one of the remaining Time Lords and he found Sherlock as a stowaway on a Dalek ship.

Daleks apparently being some strange machine-like aliens with very violent tendencies. He explained the inherent feud between Time Lords and Daleks that no one really knows the origin of and the fact that the Doctor was attempting to disable their ship when he spotted the dark haired teen and rescued him.

"And how did Sherlock end up on the ship?" John questions.

"Even the Doctor doesn't know. Sherlock refused to tell him." Mycroft answers, thinly concealing the exasperated fondness in his tone. Really it's so like the Sherlock they know.

"But it's of no consequence really. After they escaped he brought Sherlock to Earth." Mycroft continues.

"Why?" John inquires. He would think that being the last of their kind, they would hang close.

"He gave us Sherlock to protect him from those who would seek to destroy a surviving Time Lord. Earth is one of the last places anyone would think to look." He explains.

"But The Doctor has also long acted as a protector for our planet against extraterrestrial threats. He thought it would be advantageous if we had "live-in" protection so to speak. Certainly more convenient than gambling on his presence at the right time and place." He finishes with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Oh. Right. So you were meant to train him up for it then and whenever we had the need you'd give him the watch and he'd what? Don a cape and save the day?" John questions, finding himself growing angry at Mycroft's callous tone.

"That's a bit theatrical, Dr Watson." Mycroft reproaches.

"Well you are a bit ridiculous. He's not some weapon to activate when you please and then put back in storage when you're done with him. He's a human being!" John argues heatedly.

Mycroft raises a dubious eyebrow at John's finishing sentence and inquires smoothly "Is he?"

"Yes! By association." John argues. Then realizing it sounds a bit ridiculous he amends "Just because he isn't human doesn't mean he's not a person."

"Ooh, I like him." a new voice suddenly breaks in from the doorway. John starts and whips his head towards the door to find a tall skinny man in a suit leaning against the casing.

"Who the hell are you?" John demands, standing swiftly, on alert.

"Good question that. One people have been asking for a while. To keep it simple though, just call me the Doctor." he answers with a quirky smile.

Mycroft has stood as well and makes his way over, hand extended. "Pleased to see you again Doctor. Though I was under the impression that we wouldn't meet until tomorrow evening." He says, briefly clasping and shaking his hand.

"Yeah, well so was I. But the Tardis had other plans. Dropped me on your doorstep just a few moments ago." he explains with an amiably shrug.

"Tardis?" John questions. "My ship." The Doctor answers with a fond smile.

"Oh. Right." John says with a nod, drinking it all in. "Tea?" he offers after an awkward moment.

"Oh please!" the Doctor accepts with another silly smile.

"Oddly cheerful man." John thinks to himself as he bustles about the kitchen.

"I haven't told him yet." Mycroft says as he and the Doctor move into the living room and he takes a seat on the couch.

The Doctor shrugs. "No matter. Might be easier to sort out with me here anyway. Where is he?" the Doctor inquires as John hands him a freshly brewed cup.

At that moment they hear the front door bang open and a succession of quick steps upon the stairs.

His steps near as he slips into the flat saying "So John, what did the obese aggravation known as my br-" and cuts off his sentence with a sharp glare when he realizes Mycroft's presence.

"Please don't stop on my account." Mycroft drawls with a feigned smile.

"Actually I was taking a moment to scan my inventory of insults to find something worse." Sherlock quips back.

He then catches sight of the Doctor. "And you are?" he inquires, scanning him for clues.

The Doctor grins "Who do you think I am?" he tosses back and Sherlock accepts the challenge with a smile.

"Well initially I'd be inclined to say you're a colleague of my brother however you have none of the characteristics of the bureaucratic dunces that frequent the political world, therefore you must be an outsider. You've been traveling recently and from a long distance. You present a jolly front, however you're very concerned about something and you've come to us seeking help. By 'us' I mean me of course, as your eyes has trailed my every movement and you straightened slightly when I entered the room. However you're not a client as you're more interested in engaging me in an intellectual challenge than telling your own story, something that's very unusual."

John finds himself grinning just slightly. Sherlock is still exactly the same as he'd always been. Even with his newfound knowledge John can't see him in a different light. Of course that might change when he opens the watch.

The Doctor gives an approving nod. "Right on all accounts. But what does that tell you about me? What am I?"

Sherlock allows a grin to overtake his features. "Something different. Something new."

"Interesting." The Doctor answers with an enigmatic smile.

"Sherlock, now that you've decided to return, perhaps we can continue with our business." Mycroft requests, with a facsimile smile.

"Actually I was thinking of going out again, seeing as you've decided to further taint the flat with your presence." He shoots back with a glare. "You're welcome to join me, sir" he offers.

"Call me the Doctor" the Doctor corrects and Sherlock's eyebrows quirk upwards in further interest. "Ah, well then you're welcome to join me Doctor" he amends.

Mycroft responds shoots him a venomous glare and hisses out "Sherlock Holmes."

Attempting to defuse their animosity John steps in, taking one of the paper sacks from Sherlock's arms and comments with a light chuckle "You actually went to the store? I can't believe it."

Sherlock throws him an exasperated glance. "That's where I said I was going." he grumbles.

"Well yeah, but just because you say you're going somewhere doesn't mean you do." John argues. Sherlock shrugs, conceding to his point.

"No reason for me not to. We were in need of food items and I was able to procure them whilst simultaneously avoiding my brother. Seemed a win-win situation." he explained, setting the bag down on a cleared corner of the table and beginning to unpack.

The Doctor watches silently from the couch, intrigued by the relationship dynamics of the three.

"Seems I've miscalculated though." he adds, throwing Mycroft a venomous glare.

"John perhaps you'd be so kind as to put away the groceries. You know Sherlock and I have much to discuss." he says, thinly disguising the command as a polite request.

"Ah, seems I am not the only one to have made a miscalculation. You and I have nothing to talk about. At all. Ever." Sherlock retorts sharply.

"Actually Sherlock I think you ought to listen to him." John chimes in.

"John?" he questions, severely confused by his voluntary involvement in their dispute and his support of Mycroft.

"It's important." John explains, taking a tin of biscuits from Sherlock's hand. Sherlock surveys him curiously for a moment attempting to deduce what might've brought such a note of gravity to his voice.

"Trouble with the Queen and country?" he quips, trying for his typical nonchalance, but wavering slightly at John's earnest look.

"In a manner of speaking." Mycroft says, gesturing to the empty chair across from him for Sherlock to sit.

The Doctor chimes in "It is rather important."

With an exaggerated air of reluctance Sherlock finally sits down, waiting with a bored expression.

"Well?" he prompts. Mycroft extends his hand, the pocket watch lying on his palm.

"This matter of national importance that demands my urgent attention revolves around a pocket watch?" he scoffs, snatching it from Mycroft's hand to examine it.

"International importance." Mycroft corrects. "At the very least."

But Sherlock isn't listening anymore. A strange trancelike expression had fixed itself on his face and he seemed entirely enraptured with symbols on the watch.

John has forgotten the sodium bicarbonate held in his left hand that he was intending to put in the cupboard. Instead he's hovering at the edge of the kitchen, watching Sherlock.

"Why don't you open it?" The Doctor suggests and Sherlock does.

**If convenient please review; if inconvenient review anyway.**

**KP**


End file.
